Be aisy an’ list to a chuneThat’s sung of bowld Tim the Dragoon–Sure, ’twas he’d niver missTo be stalin’ a kiss,Or a brace, by the light of the moon–Aroon–Wid a wink at the Man in the Moon!

Rest his sowl where the daisies grow thick;For he’s gone from the land of the quick:But he’s still makin’ loveTo the leddies above,An’ be jabbers! he’ll tache ’em the thrick–Avick–Niver doubt but he’ll tache ’em the thrick!

‘Tis by Tim the dear saints’ll set sthore,And ‘ull thrate him to whisky galore:For they ‘ve only to sipBut the tip of his lipAn’ bedad! they’ll be askin’ for more–Asthore–By the powers, they’ll be shoutin’ ‘Ancore!’